


soft spring thaw

by twistedsky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedsky/pseuds/twistedsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit."</p>
            </blockquote>





	soft spring thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by the lovely someothermonstra. 
> 
> Vague mentions of the terrible things that Regina has done.
> 
> I haven't watched this show regularly since season three, and thus I could be wrong about all sorts of canonical events, because I have no idea what's going on. I sort of merged the fact that I know that Robin left right into the fact that I remember some cute bonding scenes between Tinkerbell and Regina last season before Regina had totally committed to trying to start something real with him. Thus, this is a VERY AU fic.

Regina grows up in a world of fairytales and magic and  _true love_.

She cannot deny their existence, even after her heart withers with rage and heartbreak that soon turn to bitterness and darkness.

Thus, Regina makes a choice(not entirely her own, but also not entirely because of the wishes and machinations of others).

Regina chooses her bitterness over a second chance at true love, even as she’s  _staring_  at it.

It’s too hard to want such things for herself, and certainly too hard to believe that she could actually be capable of such love and happiness again.

Instead, she hardens her heart, protecting it against harm. The fairy who tries to encourage her to open her heart, to let herself love again, is a fool.

She knows very well how dangerous hearts can be—such fragile, gentle things, easily destroyed both literally and figuratively.

This is the world Regina knows, and this is the one she chooses.

~~

“I can’t believe you’ve lost out on true love again,” Tinkerbell says, letting out a sigh.

It’s not as accusatory as it has been in the past, because they both know that this time it isn’t her fault.

It isn’t her fault that her soulmate has a family to worry about.

This is simply  _life_.

Regina often thinks she’s gotten used to the constant disappointment, to the perpetual feeling that every single time something good happens then another three bad things have to happen just to make sure that she doesn’t get too comfortable with the way her life is going.

She never quite gets used to the crushing disappointment though, no matter how hard she tries.

To be fair, she’s often brought suffering down on herself.

Maybe it’s simply karma, and she’s still paying her dues.

She could pay them for a thousand years, but she probably wouldn’t be able to make things right with all the blood she’s spilled.

“I’ll be fine,” Regina says now, trying to focus on the present.

She’s fallen into bad habits before, because it’s so natural for her to make the wrong choice. She has to force herself to remember what’s really important, and who she wants to be.

Tinkerbell reaches out a hand and places it over Regina’s and sighs. “Don’t worry. I know just what the doctor ordered,” and she turns to order another round of drinks.

Tinkerbell turns back and squeezes her hand. “You’ll get through this. Sometimes this just . . . happens. Life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to, and that doesn’t mean that you can’t still be happy. Things just happen.”

“My experience says otherwise,” Regina says, pulling her hand out from under Tinkerbell’s hand and finishing off her drink, patiently waiting for the next round to come. “We came from a world of fairytales. You never felt like destiny had a hand in things?”

Tinkerbell smiles sympathetically. “Regina,” she says. “Even if destiny makes things happen to us, it doesn’t control how we react to them. I’m going to get you through this, and we’ll find you someone else.”

Regina takes her new drink from Ruby, nodding her thanks. She snorts, then shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“Eventually you might,” Tinkerbell suggests gently. “You won’t feel this way forever.”

“I might,” Regina says. “I’m very good at holding onto things.”

“Well, you’ll just have to get good at letting go of them,” Tinkerbell says, reaching out her glass to gently clink it against Regina’s. “You’ll see.” It’s easier said than done, and Regina swallows anger, and only barely manages not to lash out.

She tries to believe Tinkerbell, tries to think that things will actually be okay.

She can do this.

Regina genuinely doubts that, but there’s a sparkle in Tinkerbell’s eyes that almost screams that it’ll happen even if she has to manage it through pure force of will.

~~

There are moments of weakness, of course.

She feels the rage boiling inside of her, feels herself pull on her magic, and then—“You’re okay, Regina,” Tinkerbell says softly, touching her arm gently.

Regina counts to three, and draws the magic back into herself, wincing slightly from the discomfort and pain of it.

“See?” Tinkerbell smiles. “Just fine.”

Regina mutters something unintelligible under her breath, and Tinkerbell chooses to pretend that Regina didn’t say anything at all.

The Charmings are distracted now, not even having noticed Regina’s little display of anger.

Regina wonders if that makes it worse—but no, she knows that her situation is precarious here, and she needs to prove herself daily.

She’s made too many mistakes, and there’s only so much forgiveness in any world, and Regina’s certainly asking for a lot.

To be a better person, she needs to do more than want it, she needs to  _live_  it.

Tinkerbell grabs her hand, pulling her away from the latest dramatic spectacle.

“It’s okay to make mistakes sometimes,” Tinkerbell says softly. “I mean, not the really big ones, necessarily, because the last thing we all need is more murders and evil villains running around. Which you aren’t anymore, mostly, of course.”

“Of course,” Regina says dryly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “I don’t need your inspirational speeches,” she says sharply, and Tinkerbell makes a face at her.

“I’m your friend, Regina,” Tinkerbell reminds her.

 _Why?_  She wants to ask, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she watches as Tinkerbell walks away, and feels decidedly unsettled.

She turns on her heel, and walks to her home, frowning and frustrated.

~~

Her heart is broken again, and it doesn’t quite seem fair.

She’d fought so hard for this, struggled to be a better person, to be a  _good_  person.

This is not an easy thing for her to do, and she struggles to unlearn all of the evil habits and tendencies forged in her darkest moments.

“Are you okay, Regina?” Emma asks one day, and Regina looks up sharply from a book of magic—there are answers that she needs, and an author of a magical fairytale book she needs to find.

“Yes, of course,” Regina says without hesitation.

She doesn’t share her innermost thoughts and worries with Emma most days, and it’s generally better that way.

No one needs to know how close to the edge she gets—how weak she is, how the wrong things slip into her mind as easily as the  _right_  things.

“Okay,” Emma says, and she makes a move to leave, because Henry’s waiting for her outside, but then she hesitates.

“You can tell me, you know, if you aren’t?”

Regina scoffs, but softens her face. “Thank you,” she says, and she has no intention of doing so.

Emma nods, and walks off, and Regina feels her heart clench in her chest, and it’s nice not to be alone.

~~

“Have you ever been in love before?” Regina asks, and Tinkerbell frowns.

“Not exactly,” Tinkerbell replies, then reaches out for a fry, most likely to avoid making eye contact, and likely to see if she can cut off this conversation before it goes somewhere overly personal.

“I don’t recommend it,” Regina says, and Tinkerbell turns to her sharply then.

“Don’t say that,” Tinkerbell says. “You’re lucky that you’ve experienced love at all, even if it ended badly. Fairies don’t get to fall in love, and in the time since I  _had_  a choice, I might as well of not had one at all.”

Regina taps her fingers along the countertop impatiently, considering Tinkerbell’s words.

“Love brings suffering,” Regina says finally.

Tinkerbell grabs one of her hands, and squeezes it hard, though not painfully so.

“Love can bring happiness too. Companionship. The feeling that you’ll never be alone.”

“I am alone,” Regina says.

“You have Henry,” Tinkerbell insists. “You have  _me_.”

For how long?

“For now,” Regina says, shrugging slightly, like she doesn’t care.

Tinkerbell’s face hardens, and she seems genuinely angry, something that doesn’t quite scare Regina. It doesn’t exactly leave her feeling completely comfortable and happy though either.

Tinkerbell looks like she’s literally biting her tongue to stop herself from saying something unkind.

Regina looks at her in surprise, and feels a happy, comforting feeling settle over her.

She squeezes Tinkerbell’s hand back, and smiles kindly.

Tinkerbell looks at her suspiciously at first, but then she smiles back.

“You’re very frustrating, Regina,” Tinkerbell says with an exasperated sigh.

“So I’ve been told.”

~~

She’s seventeen, and she’ll never be enough for her mother—she’ll never be the daughter her mother wants, and she knows this.

She opens her heart, searching for someone who  _will_  love her, who knows how to take her hands, and look into her eyes, and say they love her, and have her believe it.

Daniel is a gift, a kindness from the universe.

Her mother rips that hope, that kindness, that very  _love_  from her chest, and something dies inside of Regina then.

It starts with pain, and the pain turns to anger, and vengeance, and consumes her over time.

Everything that Regina is, and everything that she’s ever been, has already been decided.

(She makes her choices, lets her mistakes fester like septic wounds inside her soul, and lets herself wither inside until everything is rage and hurt and  _cold_.)

Her mistakes are her own, guided as they might be by others.

Later, she owns them, taking them into herself and accepting herself for who she is.

Regina Mills is a villain, and villains don’t get love, or happy endings, and they don’t get much say in the stories they’re beholden to.

~~

“I hated you for a long time,” Tinkerbell confesses.

They’ve moved their weekly dinners to Regina’s house, and they’re often more like three or four times a week-ly, but there’s little point in getting hung up on semantics.

The truth is that Regina’s lonely.

She’s been lonely for a long time, and the only thing that can seem to feel that void is  _people_.

Henry’s growing up, though their relationship is the best it has ever been.

It’s good, Regina thinks, to have a friend.

“I don’t blame you,” Regina admits. “I don’t blame anyone for hating me. I didn’t exactly love myself then either.”

Tinkerbell nods her head, and reaches for her drink, accidentally bumping into Regina as she does. Regina feels a slight spark, like she’s been zapped with static electricity.

It’s strange, and she immediately puts it out of her mind.

“I’m grateful for you,” Regina says. “I know that it isn’t easy to forgive someone, and I know that you can’t force it, and so I’m grateful.”

Tinkerbell smiles softly in the dim light. “I’ve made my choice,” she says lightly, and it feels like there’s double, hidden meaning floating in the air, but Regina can’t decipher it, and Tinkerbell won’t explain if she demands an explanation, and so she simply accepts things as they are.

Regina Mills is not an Evil Queen—she’s neither evil, nor queen, simply a mayor of a small, magical town, with magic and tragedy to spare.

~~

She meets the Author—uppercase, even in her thoughts, to represent his importance in her life.

He is a she, of course, and she seems confused by Regina’s journey to find her.

“It’s just a book,” the Storyteller says.

“I don’t believe that,” Regina says, shaking her head.

“That seems a little easy,” Henry says, and he squeezes her hand.

“We all have choices,” the Storyteller tells them. “The book simply recognizes them. It doesn’t guide you, or hold any meaning except what you yourself imbue in it.”

“I don’t understand,” Regina says, and she feels like the world is falling out from underneath her again.

Kindly, the Storyteller says, “Bad things happen to us, and how we respond to them defines us. The choices we make, they are who we  _are_. Whether good or bad things seem to happen to you—fate, choice, and chance swirl up together to build our lives.”

“I can’t believe that,” Regina says. “Too much has happened—“

“Our own choices are not the only ones that matter, though they often matter the most,” the Storyteller tells her. “I could destroy the book,” the Storyteller says, like she’s giving Regina a choice. “But the book is a symbol. It led your son on his path, and while the road was bumpy, that journey is what made him your son in truth.”

“So is the book magical or not?” Regina asks.

“Hope is magic,” Henry says then. “Belief, love—those are magic. Stories represent those things. I think—I think you’re free to write your own destiny, mom.”

“Things are never easy,” the Storyteller says kindly. “But sometimes that’s simply because they’re not right.”

“How could true love not be right?” Regina bites out. “In what world does that make sense?”

“Some love is never meant to last. It’s simply there to provide us with experience, with choices that can affect the outcome of our lives.”

Regina stands there, and her journey is over.

She found the Author of the book, she got her answers—but they’re not the ones she’d wanted.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Regina says softly.

“Follow your heart, do what you believe is right. Let yourself be open to happiness—that’s all anyone can do in this life,” the Storyteller says. “Magic brings shortcuts, but there’s more to life than fairytales.”

Regina doesn’t know what half of that is supposed to mean, but she understands the important part.

She closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply.

She breathes out, and it’s like a giant weight has lifted off of her.

The book doesn’t decide her destiny—only she does.

And she won’t let Cora, Zelena, Rumplestiltskin or anyone else get in the way of that.

She makes her own choices.

And today, she thinks, she’s going to choose to move forward, to keep fighting to be a better person.

And one day, she thinks, she’ll find love again.

~~

“She told me just to keep doing what I’m doing, essentially,” Regina growls out with irritation. About five minutes after her epiphany, she’d felt completely lost again, except this time she feels a little directionless too.

Tinkerbell laughs, though not as meanly as she could. “I could have told you that.”

“Exactly,” Regina says. “That’s why it’s so annoying.”

“There are no easy answers, Regina,” Tinkerbell points out. “You couldn’t expect the Author to magically make your life easier. Life is  _hard_. It can be a struggle, but then we make our way through the darkness,” Tinkerbell reaches out a hand and places it over Regina’s heart. “We find light.”

“I’m tired of speaking in vague riddles and meaningless philosophical diatribes,” Regina says.

Tinkerbell tilts her head to the side and shrugs. “Some things can’t be spoken in plainspoken words. They can only be understood in riddles and actions.”

Tinkerbell places her hand on Regina’s shoulder, and Regina feels an intense surge of calmness, of  _rightness_.

This feels nice—nicer than most things in her life.

There’s a comfort that comes from Tinkerbell’s presence, like the other woman is a calming influence on her, providing some sort of stabilizing force.

Regina leans back against the couch, and Tinkerbell leans back with her.

“Now, can we watch the movie?” Tinkerbell asks teasingly, like she’s trying to lighten the mood, because she knows that’s what Regina needs right now.

~~

She can feel attraction in her bones—Regina’s familiar with want and need, and the simplicity of lust.

There’s an intimacy tied with it though, that changes things drastically.

Regina is not a kind person—she tries to be a better person, but there is an awareness in her very soul that she will never be a  _good_  one again.

She’s killed, she’s destroyed lives(many times in ways far worse than death), and she’s hurt people in ways she’ll never be able to fix(Graham, the citizens of Storybrooke—that’s simply the beginning of her list, and there’s little she can do to make reparations).

Starting over is hard when you’re still standing in the muddy waters of your past.

Regina wonders if she should leave, if she should try to start over somewhere else—that would probably be easier, but it’s not the right answer.

She has Henry, and she has apologies that will take lifetimes to make, in more than just words.

She has Tinkerbell too.

There’s a sense in her body when Tinkerbell’s around, a feeling that there’s something much more than simple friendship in her own heart, and Regina doesn’t know what to do with that.

(It seems dangerous too, but Regina had vowed to stop being driven by fear, and thus she’s _trying.)_

This is not love, at least not yet, but it’s something heavy, and kind, and more than she deserves(but certainly what she’s been searching for).

It seems wrong to kiss Tinkerbell, but it’s hard to put what she’s feeling into words, but somehow, she manages.

~~

Her heart has thawed—her heart is receptive to something meaningful, to the hope for something more, to the possibility of love.

There’s still much work to do, even if Tinkerbell rejects her(especially if she does, Regina thinks).

Tinkerbell kisses her after the words spill from Regina’s mouth, clumsily, and not nearly as smoothly as she’d hoped they would.

And thus, her choice is made, and her destiny sits squarely in her hands, and hope threatens to spill out of her every pore.

And thus, she finds love again, impossibly, inexplicably, through great pain and effort, and the kindness and compassion of heroes, of which she is certainly not.

(She still gets a happy ending—well-earned, and terrifying in its power to disappear, or fracture into pieces at any time, but such is the price of love.)


End file.
